


Lestrade is an idiot

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Sherlock being Sherlock and Greg being Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: “As I’ve said, I’m bored and I need some entertainment.”“And you’re expecting what? Me dancing on your table?” he couldn’t believe his own ears.





	Lestrade is an idiot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johnlock221](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock221/gifts).
  * A translation of [Lestrade je idiot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704819) by [ArcheaMajuar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar). 



> English is not my mother tongue as I'm from the Czech Republic. There are mistakes in the story, I know, but I just don't have anyone around to give me their feedback on the fic, grammar and so on (but if you'd like to let me know about the mistakes, please, do so in the comments or just send me an email (you find it on my profile page), it'd be much appreciated)
> 
> I'm really sorry for the errors, but I hope you'll enjoy this work anyway :)
> 
> To be honest, I really enjoyed translating this story as I adore the pairing, I adore Lestrade, and I've always been very fond of his care for Sherlock. I was also asked to translate more of my fics with them, but I'm probably not going to do that as this one is the best I've written about them. The rest is okay, but... eh, they're kinda lame and porny (which isn't bad at all, but I don't see a point in translating porn as AO3 is full of it :D).

It was utterly beyond his senses. He just wasn’t able to comprehend how Sherlock managed to solved these cold cases, lying in the almost forgotten box for ages. The police gave up on them for the lack of evidences or for whatever reasons and nobody cared about them anymore, but it was so only up to the moment when the remembrance of their existence popped out of Greg’s mind. He desperately needed anything that would keep his younger friend busy at least for a while to make his own work done, but he really didn’t expect much of it. How surprised he was as soon as Sherlock showed up with all cold cases solved, and Greg couldn’t do otherwise but bashfully stare at him, admiring him utterly on the inside.

However, Greg didn’t feel any urges to really hide his high respect for the half-mad man with a brilliant brain and remarkable observing abilities. In fact, he was enjoying watching him work, and he couldn’t care less whether it was during a case he asked Sherlock to cooperate with him on, or whether he simply happened to be at a crime scene by a mere coincidence (even though Greg didn’t believe him when Sherlock was saying so). Sometimes he felt a bit useless with comparison to Sherlock, though his fascination with the man outweighed his ego. Well, usually.

Assuming he had spent enough of his time dwelling on Sherlock’s uniqueness, Greg tossed the files with solved cases aside and lounged on his comfortable chair. Even though Sherlock was quite uncontrollable and Greg doubted the drug raids were coming to their ends, he happened to really like the bastard. If he didn’t, he would follow the recommendation given by his bosses and call their cooperation a day, but then the police success rate would drop significantly. Moreover, Sherlock now had something to occupy himself with instead of pumping his body of various shit.

He glanced at the clocks and felt a bit uneasy. He should go home, but… but there was his wife and Greg didn’t feel like seeing her at all as Sherlock didn’t hesitate to inform him that his wife was cheating on him with her fitness trainer. However, have anyone expected Greg to do anything about that? Maybe he should just talk to her about her little affair? Nah, he was no good in such things. He had never really figured out how to properly communicate with her, like… like they had never really understood each other and it had started to show even years ago. Furthermore, he knew very well that he was willing to devote more time to his job than to his wife, so he couldn’t say he was surprised by her endeavours to find a lover.

Maybe a pub would do, an alluring thought crossed Greg’s mind right before the door swung open and Sherlock made his entrance, tightly followed by furious Donovan.

“I tried to stop him, but…” shone her eyes with pure rage as she gazed in the detective’s direction Sherlock paid her no attention.

Lestrade just rolled his eyes and send her away with a dismissive gesture, signalizing that it was okay. More or less.

“What can I do for you, Sherlock?” Greg asked in a calm voice, though he perfectly noticed Sherlock looks out of sorts. He was almost always a bit pale, but despite his attempt to hold himself upright and eyeing Lestrade with a hint of annoyance, he seemed to be tired.

“I’m bored.”

“So?” Lestrade retorted lazily, slightly losing interest in whatever reason Sherlock was here for. “Entertain yourself like any other ordinary human being.”

“I don’t perceive sipping on wine and watching hockey as matters capable of entertaining me, Lestrade,” grunted Sherlock.

“Drinking bear and watching football,” murmured Lestrade somehow automatically, even though he was quite sure Sherlock didn’t give a rat’s ass about what ordinary people were doing in their leisure time. “Just go to cinema…”

“Are you going to feed me up with more stupid ideas, or will you just get up and drive us to my place?”

Lestrade gaped at him for a second before he recomposed himself under Sherlock’s impatient gaze, then he quite easily gave up, nodded and stood up, reaching for his jacket and following Sherlock out of his office.  Well, he didn’t know what Sherlock’s plan was, but at least he had an excuse why not to go home.

Together, they arrived at the parking lot where the genius halted right beside Lestrade’s car without a hint of hesitation. The older man wasn’t even impressed that out of a hundred of cars Sherlock found his immediately. Greg unlocked it and started the engine. In few minutes they were heading towards Sherlock’s apartment while the detective fell silent, which after a while began to unnerve Lestrade a lot. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he kept casting suspicious glances at the younger man who looked utterly unfazed by them.

“Could you possibly tell my why we’re going to your place?” Lestrade lost it and barked at Sherlock, however, when the younger man’s eyes laid upon Greg, the grey depth were emotionless as his voice was.

“Because your wife is at your place, that’s why, and according to my last encounter with her, she is not exactly fond of me,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“You know, I didn’t mean it like that,” growled Lestrade, thinking something of the rather cold weather as the both of them were kind of under it. He wasn’t mad at Sherlock, not at all, he just felt nervous as the sarcastic loner had never invited him over so out of blue, moreover he hadn’t shown any interest in spending more time with him. Beside work, of course.

“As I’ve said, I’m bored and I need some entertainment.”

“And you’re expecting what? Me dancing on your table?” he couldn’t believe his own ears. He wasn’t able to fathom what the genius was thinking about, anyway, he kept driving towards Sherlock’s apartment, though his confusion only increased at the little smile Sherlock gave to Greg’s suggestion.

Sherlock’s reaction puzzled Lestrade immensely, but he managed to keep enough of his attention on the road. He then loudly sighed with relief at the sight of Sherlock’s dwelling. It looked terribly on the outsider, but as soon as they reached Sherlock’s flat, the impression got better. It wasn’t a cosy place to live for sure, however, the younger man’s brother did his best to turn the flat into something almost comfortable. Lestrade couldn’t supress a chuckle at the thought the place was literally screaming _I was here, Mycroft,_ which, he imagined, was driving Sherlock crazy. The detective would’ve never bought so many pieces of furniture on his own as he would do only with a mattress, kettle, and laptop.

Finally, Lestrade stopped musing on such things, lay his jacket over the armchair and looked around in a search for Sherlock, who was already wearing only a shirt and pants and currently was snooping around kitchen.

Greg remained standing where he was and with pure amazement, he took a can of beer which Sherlock handed him.

“My favourite,” he beamed and smiled graciously at Sherlock. The genius just nodded, gesturing then towards the couch, on which Lestrade seated himself right away. Sherlock joined him in a more elegant way and reached for a remote controller, skimming though the various channels and to Lestrade’s total shock, he opted for a sport channel.

“Since when have you been a fan of basketball?” rasped Lestrade as suspicion once again crept upon him. He didn’t understand anything, but the can of beer in his hand and the sport channel on TV consoled him a bit.

Sherlock just shrugged, withdrew himself into the corner of the couch, hugged his knees and placed his head on them. Greg observed him for a second, then he shifted his attention to the game and he really became consumed by it, however… It wasn’t football, so Lestrade’s concentration dropped after about twenty minutes and his eyes started to wander around the flat. Dwelling on the odd behaviour of the young detective, he eventually looked at him and… felt a jolt of surprise as he realized Sherlock was gazing at him.

The pair of grey eyes literally stared at him, shining with such intensity it gave Lestrade a shiver.

“What?” he blurted out angrily despite surmising Sherlock wasn’t about to criticize him at all as the genius’ expression was relaxed, but Greg couldn’t think of any reason for Sherlock’s sudden interest in him.

The younger man remained silent, though his eyes didn’t leave Greg not even for a moment. A then he moved towards Lestrade.

Bemused, Greg witnessed Sherlock reducing the distance between them, one leg underneath his body, the second one on the floor, one hand on the back of the couch, and with the second one Sherlock took Greg’s can of beer and placed it on the table. Lestrade’s eyes widen in understanding, but he still didn’t do anything that would prevent Sherlock from leaning towards him and kissing him right on the lips.

There was nothing going on Lestrade’s mind at first, but then some thoughts on Sherlock’s soft lips occurred as well as an urge to draw Sherlock closer, to feel his slim body… He’d never considered Sherlock unattractive, not in the least, but… but it was Sherlock!

Greg gripped on his shoulders and gently pushed him away, gazing at his face and searching for answers in the grey depths.

“Have lost your mind?” he exhaled, surprising even himself how frightened he sounded.

“Not at all, Greg, I’m perfectly conscious,” Sherlock replied and Greg believed him. He wasn’t high or drunk, no, he really knew what he was doing.

“Well, right, but…” were Lestrade’s wheel reeling inside his head, trying to make some sense out of this mess. Taking advantage of Greg’s immediate lack of focus, Sherlock moved towards him once again, but he only startled Lestrade, who jumped out of the couch, putting some distance between them.

“Sherlock, I get it, you’re bored, but I’m not going to sleep with you just to kill some time,” he said, voice unnaturally jittery, his stomach was knotted like he got kicked or was used, or…

The detective blinked at him, confused, before he put his head into his hands with an exasperated sigh.

“You. Are. Such an idiot. Lestrade. Seriously, you’re an idiot,” he glanced up to meet Greg’s eyes. “You really think I would visit you just because I was bored? It would take me literally few minutes to put my hands on any drug I’d covet. And you think I had your favourite brand of beer in my fridge just by a coincidence? And that I let the sport channel on just because I relish tormenting myself? If only had you used your brain sometimes, you’d have noticed by intentions earlier…”

Greg struggled to believe what he had heard as it sounded so unlikely and bizarre, yet the younger man was sitting in front of him, his grey eyes shining with life and honesty.

“Are you serious?” Lestrade ask tentatively, maybe too quietly as he immediately doubted whether Sherlock heard him… whether he heard that minute hint of hope Lestrade put in the question.

Yes, he was quite shocked, totally caught off guard, though he sensed that Sherlock was speaking the truth. He wasn’t used to similar… situations…. as he wasn’t young anymore and it was long time ago since he had been receiving any offers from handsome men or women, though with the latter he was more or less finished by now due to his failed marriage. And he had never been the type for one night stands, so…

…so when Sherlock raised up from the couch and stand close to Greg, smiling slightly, expression sincere, and eyes lacking its usual coldness and arrogance… they were bright with kindness which replaced the previous frustration with Lestrade’s slowness.

“May I kiss you now?”

He asked so softly, so tenderly, that something inside Lestrade’s chest moved, and he felt utterly convinced that Sherlock’s feelings were genuine. The younger man’s face was getting closer and it was only a matter of time when his lips would be laid upon Greg’s, or when Lestrade would decide to act and to smash his lips against Sherlock’s.

Lestrade chose the latter option.

Soon enough he felt two hands on his body, the first one clutching on his hip, the second placed on back of his neck. Sherlock deepened the kiss that swiftly turned into a hungry and passionate one, however, Lestrade was shortly out of his breath, and so was Sherlock, so he simply hugged the younger man, brought him even closer to him a buried his fingers and face in the curly black hair.

And the Lestrade’s thought on coming to his flat had been already forgotten.


End file.
